


Amber Hues

by nolandbeyond



Series: *cries* i just love revhound so much [3]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Other, first chapter is just fluff, in the second chapter, just about everyone is kinda chillin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolandbeyond/pseuds/nolandbeyond
Summary: watch the orange fade into the softest brown, a fire being put to sleep
Relationships: Bloodhound/Revenant (Apex Legends)
Series: *cries* i just love revhound so much [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748203
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59





	1. trinket

Old habits die hard, as the saying goes. Though Revenant didn’t need to sleep, every once in a while, he’d have to shut down to recharge - something that, once again, pushed him further from Humanity and into limbo, estranged. He hated it, however, that once he powered back up, age-old instinct would guide him to the bathroom and he would fumble around for a razor before his mind rebooted and he would be left staring at that terrible visage in the mirror.

He’s left, this attempt, with too-long fingers flexing around the metal handle of Bloodhound’s razor, bright orange optics staring disdainfully at him-  _ you fool, thinking you’re a skinbag just like the rest of them-  _ before a gentle hand stirs him from his own death stare. It’d taken a while, but he learned to stop jumping and threatening Bloodhound in their own room.

“ _ Elskan _ ?” Bloodhound’s voice is drowsy, and Revenant realizes that he’s ended up fully charged in the middle of the night. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Revenant says a little too flatly, hand returning to his side. It reaches up to curl around Bloodhound’s gently, placing it back down. “Go back to sleep.”

He knows that his lies can’t fool Bloodhound, but they merely nod this time, leaning up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek before shuffling back to bed. Revenant lingers a moment longer in the bathroom doorway before huffing quietly at himself in the mirror one last time. He turns off the lights, crawling into bed next to Bloodhound, who immediately tugs him down so that they can rest against his shoulder, cushioned by his scarf.

There’s a murmured ‘good night’ and Revenant watches as their breathing softens, passing back into peaceful sleep. His eyes shift, the orange glow reflecting off pale skin, and he gives in to the urge to trace featherlight fingers over their cheek. The hunter shifts, causing him to pull back momentarily, before he sees them lean into his touch, letting him feel the soft skin, gently tracing the vein-like scars beneath.

Bloodhound sighs wistfully when Revenant runs a hand through their hair next, letting the strands fall between his fingers, locks curling around the small joints and cascading like the blood he enjoys spilling. Their hair is surprisingly soft, they take pride in the intricate care they put into it, and Revenant can’t find himself sneering at their human comfort when he enjoys burying his face in it.

The simulacrum aches. A spidery hand drifts over a sunken cheek, scratching paint on the untouched side, and he changes trajectory to run a hand over nonexistent hair, feigning himself to tighten his bandana instead. He opens his mouth, silicone tongue lolling out before his jaw snaps shut and he can neither scowl nor smile.

Too many things gone. At least he can’t cry.

When Bloodhound begins to stir, the sun’s rays are barely peeking over the horizon and Revenant’s gaze is glued to the opposite wall. He looks down when a hand on his cheek lightly pulls at him, he allows them to guide his eyes down so that he can see them blink the sleep out of their eyes, languid and loving - he could stare at Bloodhound’s eyes for the rest of their life, he thinks. Beautiful robin blues flecked with gold, sparkling just right in the sunlight, glimmering softly in the moonlight, captivating and ethereal just like the rest of them.

All he can let out is a dazed mumble.

“Good morning,” Bloodhound whispers, snapping him out of his daze. “Do you think you could grab breakfast for me, dear? I would like to spend some time with you before we start our busy day.”

“Of course,” Revenant mumbles, his fans kicking in when they smile and press a kiss to his lips.

He lets them get out of bed first, content with admiring them as they do their morning exercise routine, though their familiarity with it made it look like they were stretching languidly for ten minutes. Revenant finally rolls out of bed once they go to shower, extracting a promise from him that he would get them an extra cinnamon roll.

The cafeteria is busy by the time he gets there and he’s immediately pissed off at how many people are early birds - which seems to be just about everyone but Crypto and Octane. Most, if not all, of the Legends eat at the center table - Bangalore and Gibraltar sharing protein shakes over bacon and eggs, Mirage squawking at Wraith for stealing his hard-earned bacon while Wattson sneaks some of his hashbrowns off his plate right next to him to share with Caustic. Lifeline and Loba sit on either side of Pathfinder **(** _why the hell is that tincan even here, he can’t eat_ **)** , chatting cheerfully about _something_ , and Revenant makes it a point to flip off Loba while she throws her butter knife at him which bounces harmlessly off his back as he orders Bloodhound’s breakfast, making it a point to see _two_ cinnamon rolls on that plate.

With a loaded tray and  _ three  _ cinnamon rolls delivered fifteen minutes later, Revenant makes it out of the cafeteria with no other interaction except for stopping to dump Loba’s orange juice all over her breakfast, earning no less than ten unique curses and five new terrible nicknames. Pathfinder placates her before she can ruin Bloodhound’s breakfast in retaliation, cheerfully suggesting that she work on her new finisher just for Revenant; that gets her to sit down with a grumble while Lifeline gets up to replace her plate.

Bloodhound is feeding Artur when Revenant returns, the hunter cooing softly as the raven squawks at his breakfast. They turn quickly, however, as soon as the scent of cinnamon rolls reaches their nose, their eyes wide as they grin, genuine and toothy, while Revenant sets the tray down in front of them.

“You spoil me, my love,” they say as they see the third cinnamon roll.

“I do,” Revenant agrees with a grunt. “Real food first.”

Bloodhound offers a brief pout, hand shifting away from where it was about to tear into the gooey breakfast dessert, opting instead to pick up a fork and dig into the eggs.

“I will be with Elliott and Natalie again today,” they explain after a few minutes, Revenant having wandered off to the window to water the plants there, “if you would like to come along.”

The simulacrum grunts again, would scowl if he could, before he grumbles, “As fun as it is to watch that idiot literally quake in his boots, I think whatever it is you’re all doing in there requires you to understand him.”

At that, Bloodhound allows themself a small laugh and Revenant wishes he could smile as he leans down to nuzzle them, a gentle imitation of a kiss. A sticky kiss is pressed to his cheek, cinnamon glaze smearing on his cheek which he rolls his eyes at while Bloodhound grins cheekily and stuffs the third cinnamon roll into their mouth.

“You’re such a messy eater when it comes to your sweets,” Revenant scolds which gets Bloodhound’s grin to widen.

“I am aware,” they say, eyes twinkling.

“You could  _ ask _ .” The simulacrum leans down again, silicone tongue swiping over Bloodhound’s lips before dipping in further for a moment - tasting is faint, faded enough that Revenant can’t indulge eating to satisfy, but he enjoys the slight taste of cinnamon and sugar coating Bloodhound’s mouth, swiping at the roof of it where their tongue sometimes presses as they swallow. He hums satisfactorily when he pulls away, swiping at their bottom lip before standing fully, murmuring, “I suppose I wouldn’t mind that every morning.”

“Only if you’re willing to get it for me everyday,” Bloodhound teases as they begin placing on their headgear. Their communicator beeps once their helmet is strapped on, and they explain, “Ah, Elliott and Natalie must be waiting for me in the labs. I believe we will be finished by this afternoon, if you would like to sit with me during lunch.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Revenant says, watching as they head to the door. “Just make sure to get a corner table. I ruined Loba’s breakfast and I don’t want her ruining your lunch with whatever collateral she’s going to hit me with if we sit in the middle.”

“Revenant…”

“She’s not going to stop, and I won’t either.” He can practically  _ hear  _ the eyeroll, followed by a fond sigh before they’re off down the hall to finish whatever project it is they’ve been working on for the past month and a half.

Of course, he’d been curious about what they were working on, but he hadn’t pushed it. He wouldn’t admit it but the labs make his metaphorical skin crawl, the first and last time he’d gone, he killed one of the medical staff for attempting to pry him open after they’d already stuck him with a bunch of needles into his wiring. Though he hadn’t been banned from the labs, per se, it was an unspoken rule that he wasn’t really allowed in, and he’s been more than happy to stay out since then.

He spends the morning in the shooting range, practicing with the Sentinel and getting lost in a quiet trance as he focuses on the dummies ahead. The others keep their distance from him; without Bloodhound around, they revert back to how they acted when he first arrived, as though Bloodhound is his handler. Loba glares at him from across the sparring room and behind the glass - they’d both been given explicit orders to stay away from each other outside of the Ring, though they honored it for now, they would break those rules some time soon. From the whispers as he walks out, he’s sinisterly pleased to hear that they think Loba will snap first.

A notification appears in the upper right corner of his neural HUD, a message:  _ Bloth - Is our room far enough from Loba for lunch? _

Revenant allows himself a huff of a laugh, though his gaze lingers on the mention of ‘our’, and his fans stutter as he turns sharply in the direction of the living quarters. A hand drifts over his chest, clawing where a heart would be, and he wonders if there’s a pinched wire in there causing that strange ache.

Bloodhound’s back is to the door when Revenant enters, head turning so that they can watch him before looking back at whatever they have in their hands. After a few moments, Revenant decides to break the silence with a questioning grunt.

“The project is finished,” Bloodhound answers as they settle on the bed, hands cupped in their lap. They look up at him and he answers the silent request, sitting next to them slowly. “It… took some convincing, but I-”

They hesitate, a rare occurrence, before continuing quietly, “I know that look you give yourself in the mirror. The way you touch me at night when you think I am asleep.”

The hunter takes a deep breath, turning toward the simulacrum, and gesturing to him to lean down. “You deserve a choice,  _ elskan _ . Perhaps it is not the choices you expected to be given today, but you deserve them.”

“Bloth…” Revenant mumbles though he doesn’t stop them from clasping a necklace around his neck. He looks down, thin fingers toying with the small trinket - shaped like his death totem, he notes, but with old runes etched on them. A thumb runs over one of the runes, and the trinket begins to emit a soft glow - ashy ember like his shadows.

Orange electricity bounces between the runes before trailing along his hands, and he jumps as skin begins to form, traveling along his arms and he stares at his new hands. He can see fingerprints, smooth nails, and small fine hairs on unfamiliar hands-  _ and yet, they are- _

“I… I don’t understand,” he finally says, unsure if he should be angry or impressed. He doesn’t know what he feels, that ache returning tenfold, climbing up to his head, turning into pressure behind his eyes.

“Elliott and Natalie call it a holoform. It is still experimental, but they had been thrilled with the idea,” Bloodhound explains softly. The word ‘holoform’ has Revenant shooting to his feet and he rushes into the bathroom, fumbling with the light, and he turns it on just in time to see the glow of his orange optics disappear into amber and gold-flecked eyes.

“That’s… me,” he whispers hoarsely, nearly flinching when he feels and sees his reflection’s lips move. A hand runs delicately over them, agape. “I can… I can feel it.”

“I had asked for their best work,” Bloodhound says, standing in the doorway, and Revenant can feel their eyes on him. They reach out to take his hand, thumb running over the back, pressing lightly and feeling it flex and curl. “I understand, however, if you are not comfortable…”

“No, no, I… I think it’s just going to take some getting used to...” Revenant answers, though still distracted as he runs his free hand over his face. His hair is longer than he remembers, stubble coming in, flecks of grey scattered throughout - his eyes are world weary, hiding the usual bloodthirstiness and disdain he typically has, the intimidating glow replaced by warm shades of brown.

He looks older.

He  _ feels  _ older.

“It’s been so long…” He murmurs. He turns to Bloodhound, who seems uncertain of his response, and he smiles. He  _ smiles _ . A genuine look, a genuine feeling, he can feel his lips stretch back, his teeth shining, and- and-

“My love, you are crying,” Bloodhound reaches up to wipe away the tears, and though it works, their hand comes away dry. “My apologies, I did not know they had gotten so intricate with the programming.”

“It’s fine,” Revenant says, leaning down to wrap his arms around Bloodhound and bury his face in their shoulder. “It’s fine.”

A hand runs through his hair - his  _ hair _ \- and Bloodhound chuckles softly, “I did not think you would have curly hair.”

“I took pride in these curls,” Revenant objects as they both go back to the bed. He lets Bloodhound run their hands along his cheeks, eliciting a soft giggle as they feel the stubble.

“Once again, I am enamored by your handsomeness,” they say, removing their filter momentarily to press a kiss to his cheek. If their goggles were off, Revenant knows their eyes will widen noticeably, “You are blushing,  _ elskan _ .”

“Maybe I ought to turn this off,” the simulacrum threatens. It’s empty, however, as his hands stay by his sides. “I hope you’re not expecting me to look like this in public from now on.”

“You appear however you would like,” Bloodhound reassures, beaming at him. “You have a reputation to uphold, of course.”

“Can’t have everyone thinking I’m going soft by literally turning into a skinbag,” he finishes with a grunt, earning a short laugh from the hunter.

“Of course not,” Bloodhound says, opting to press gentle kisses along Revenant’s palm. “But, I hope you do not mind me adoring you while you are like this.”

“You adore me enough as it is, what else should I expect?”

“Hmm,” Bloodhound hums. “I am fond of this beard of yours.” Their gloves are still off, touching his cheeks lightly, almost scritching as if petting a cat.

“Feels good,” Revenant rumbles, eyes closing as he leans into their touch. “Won’t say no to this.” He sighs, half-content, half-weary, “I never realized…”

Bloodhound doesn’t pressure him to finish once he trails off quietly, seeming to understand his numbness, his realization of previously unknown haunts, feelings - the discomfort of a body that was never his.

“Thank you, Bloth,” Revenant says after a moment of silence. He hesitates before adding softly, unsure, almost inaudible, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Bloodhound returns just as quietly, hands gently cupping his face. “No matter how you appear, I will always love you, Revenant.”


	2. desire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to chat w me on my tumblr ( @lordshaxx / @sinergyze ) or twitter ( @detoxfire ), i like to cry about revhound constantly, please cry with me

Over the next few months, the holoform technology improved. It had taken some effort, but Revenant managed to stick around in the labs for an extended amount of time with Elliott and Natalie without killing them - the pair had been thrilled to pieces when Revenant showed up with Bloodhound the first time, wearing the holoform. Natalie even went so far as to call him ‘ _ handsome _ ’ which promptly got Revenant to shut off the form and hunker down, shoulders hunched and avoiding eye contact.

At the very least, they didn’t waste his time when they asked for his presence in the lab, experimenting with durability and outside stimuli effects. It’s all mundane things that he doesn't need, and he expresses his boredom regularly, but Bloodhound seems incredibly pleased with the progress, rewarding the pair substantially for their hard work. 

Though Revenant wouldn’t call the two engineers friends of his, he concedes to finding them less annoying than when he first met them.

Well… Natalie is less annoying.

Currently, Mirage is chatting up the comms. link while the squad wanders through the Golden Sands, an alternate passway to the abandoned town. Bloodhound lets out the occasional appropriate noise of acknowledgement as they peer through their scope towards the undulating hills ahead, and Revenant silently considers assassinating Mirage as he lingers in the back, finger itching to spray an entire mag of his Flatline into the trickster's back.

“Yeah, so we were thinking that next! We could help with your- OH SHIT,” Mirage screams suddenly, having seen the glint of a sniper scope in the distance and ducking down in tandem with Bloodhound.

Revenant ends up taking the Longbow shot directly in the chest. It throws him back, his purple shield shouldering the brunt of the damage, and he grunts as he lands in the sand, using that momentum to roll into the dry sewer tunnel. Already, Bloodhound and Mirage provide covering fire, the crack of Bloodhound’s Sentinel punctuated by the resounding crack of someone’s shield breaking, while Mirage fires some warning shots with his R-99 along with a decoy before jumping down next to Revenant.

“Looks like a duo, Hound should be good, but I can’t do much,” he huffs while Revenant grumpily rummages through his backpack for a battery. There’s a soft gasp and then Mirage begins stammering, “U-Uh, hey, Rev, um, I-I think… You-”

“ _ What _ ?” the simulacrum snaps. His eyes immediately widen, noting the absence of a digital filter to his voice - the first new feature Mirage himself had added to the holoform - and Revenant fumbles for a moment, taking the necklace out from where he tucks it under his scarf. Holding it up so that he and Mirage can inspect it, he immediately spots a dent in the activation rune on one side, and despite swiping his thumb over the shutdown rune as many times as he can, the trinket remains lit.

“Ooooh no, oh god, th-this is di- disus- disat- TERRIBLE,” Mirage rambles, hands clutching his hair. “I’m so sorry, I-I don’t think I can- I don’t have the tools, I can’t fix it right now- oh you’re gonna kill me, shit shit shit-”

“I’m not going to kill you, yet,” Revenant snarls, tucking the necklace back into his scarf. “We are going to  _ finish this _ , and you and Wattson are going to make it withstand fucking  _ bullets _ , understand, you tittering skinbag? And if you can’t,  _ then _ I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Right, right, crystal clear, ol’ Rev, ol’ buddy,” Mirage laughs nervously, hands raised in front of himself defensively. After a tense moment of silence, salvation comes in the form of Bloodhound joining them, saying,

“I have dispatched the squad - we should return to our trek to the Ring, we are not inside.”

“Y-Yeah, good idea. I’m… gonna take a peek at those boxes before we head out,” Mirage flashes them a grin before scrambling out of the drain, leaving Bloodhound to notice Revenant who remains huddled.

“Ah,” they murmur in understanding. A glance at the map gives them a few minutes to sit next to Revenant quietly, who stares at his hands. “Here, we do not want your hair to get in the way during our next fight.”

Revenant’s eyes follow Bloodhound’s hands which dig out a spare hair tie from one of their pouches before he mutters, “I can change it.”

“I know,” they say but begin to braid anyway. Their hands are nimble and quick despite the gloves, gently pulling back strands that fall into his eyes. There’s some shuffling as Bloodhound adjusts the hair tie and then they pull back, remarking, “There we go.” They take a moment to silently admire him before standing and offering a hand.

“Thanks,” Revenant grumbles, taking their hand and being pulled to his feet just as the siren sounds followed by an announcement of the Ring closing. “Let’s go.”

They’re not far from the Ring, using the sparse rocks and vehicles as cover as they make their way to the abandoned town between Airbase and Bunker. Mirage offers to cover their flank though the nervousness that hasn’t left his voice suggests he doesn’t quite trust Revenant behind him anymore -  _ at least he’s smart enough to assume that _ .

The next squad they find by accident, Revenant slamming the door open into one of the abandoned buildings, and startling the skinbags who were clearly trying to take a breather. They were a handful of nobodies, no Legends among them, and they were splayed around the room, scrambling to get their weapons until Revenant guns down one, followed by Bloodhound, and the simulacrum grabs the closest and last one as they try to bolt.

“I need you for something,” Revenant snarls, lifting them by the neck. They claw at his arm fruitlessly as he flexes his other hand, pleased to watch as it breaks through the holoform and turns into a blade. The skinbag yelps, squirming even more, though confusion has entered their fear-ridden eyes as they barely choke out, “R-Reven-!” before the blade is driven through their jaw and drilled into their brain. They go limp as Revenant tosses them aside before all three bodies turn into death boxes as they’re all pulled away from the arena.

As Revenant relaxes his hand, he notes how the holoform immediately replaces it with his human hand and he flexes it more freely. “Hm.”

“W-Well, at least that still works,” Mirage mumbles as he nudges past the pair to rifle through the boxes. “We just gonna hunker down here then?”

Bloodhound nods, kneeling next to Mirage so that they can replace their Sentinel with an RE-45, grabbing ammo to replace their sniper reserves. “It will be close quarters from now on, and…” they pause momentarily, sparing a glance towards Revenant, “I believe it would be best to keep our spectators off of us for the time being.”

Mirage nods in understanding - there isn’t much excitement to be seen when a squad decides to wait everyone out. Revenant idly recalls the one time, however, when everyone had been incredibly interested in a game of  _ Uno  _ Octane, Wattson, and Gibraltar had started up while waiting for the Ring to close after having perfectly landed in the center.

From the looks of the map, however, they’ll probably have to move to another building when the Ring starts closing. With three other squads left, it’ll be cramped soon, but Revenant takes the reprieve to collect his thoughts.

Feeling with the holoform is different than his normal body, rediscovering old sensations in a new forgotten light - the sand had felt rougher against his synthetic skin, as though he had felt every grain that brushed along. The metal of the building they’re in is colder, firmer, though he can still bend and warp it as he wishes, it’s strange to feel flesh press back with the given pressure. And…

Bloodhound slips into the small hall where Revenant is keeping watch at the open window though his steady gaze isn’t really watching anything. They’re quiet, offering their hand which Revenant takes hesitantly - his attention is instantly turned away from the window, looking down at Bloodhound’s hand as his fingers run over the glove. The texture is rough, ensuring a firm grip, though some of the fabric on the palms is worn smooth from many years of use; it’s a snug fit, Bloodhound’s actual hand underneath emitting warmth, and Revenant threads his fingers between.

“I’ll be fine,” he says eventually, when Bloodhound’s grip tightens, a rare sign of nervousness. “At least I don’t sweat like you skinbags.”

At that, Bloodhound huffs a small laugh, indulging themself as they lean up, moving their respirator for a moment to press a small kiss to his cheek.

“H-Hey, not to break up a tender moment or anything,” Mirage pipes up hesitantly, “b-but I think we’re in the top three and the other two have started fighting.”

The fighting he points out is muffled but nearby, in one of the bigger buildings ahead, and Revenant slips out first, eager to spill blood again. He places his Death Totem just outside, tucked away in a corner, and he sighs deeply as the shadows bleed over him once more - the chill of darkness is a comfort unlike the others who step into it, reveling in the ashy embers as they swirl around, trailing behind as he runs recklessly into the cramped building.

His Flatline immediately knocks down Octane who had been huddling in a corner with a shield battery in hand - the daredevil lets out a string of curses as Bloodhound follows in to finish him off. Bangalore and Lifeline are further down the hall, cornered by Loba and some skinsuit she’d been unlucky to be paired with - outside, Revenant catches a glimpse of Mirage wrapping around the building to the opposite entrance and a decoy being placed at the open window.

The decoy startles Loba’s squadmate, causing them to jump and shoot their Mastiff which is the mistake that Bloodhound needs in order to jump in and unload their RE-45 into the measly blue shield. Revenant covers them with a silencer placed between Loba and the last two, effectively silencing them all as Mirage bursts in, hosing down Lifeline first. Bangalore is quick to react, however, her IMC training kicking and she chases after the trickster while he reloads, Mastiff aimed with deadly accuracy.

Loba turns to look behind herself, disoriented by the silencer, but as soon as her gaze locks onto Revenant, she simply looks downright  _ pissed _ .

“Well, well, well,” she drawls, eyes roving over his holoform, “you certainly look better with, y’know, everything in place.” She tosses a braid over her shoulder, crooning, “And I see you took a little inspiration from yours truly.”

“Hardly,” he snorts, holo breaking on his arm as he forms his blade. “You’re three hundred years too late to the style, girl.”

The thief is quick to react to his lunge, staff parrying smoothly, and he uses the momentum to twist away and steady himself as she swings low, forcing him to latch to the wall, one hand digging in deep to the metal. He lunges at her, forcing her leg down as he stabs at her shoulder though the blow is at the cost of a bullet into his gut and they both stagger back.

“Shame, I was looking forward to you bleeding,” she sneers as she jabs at him again, pushing him back. Her hatred burns tenfold, hiding the brief disappointment as she snarls at him.

“You and the ten others who sought the same thing as you,” he scowls, feeling it for the first time as his lips curl. “This isn’t for  _ you _ .”

“Maybe not, but I’ll have the pleasure of seeing what little life you have left drain from those damned eyes at the very least.” They twirl around again, Revenant’s arm locked with Loba’s staff until he manages to twist and pull it away, throwing the crested weapon to the side as he presses the blade into her gut threateningly.

“Seems we’re at an impasse,” he rumbles lowly as her sidearm snakes under his chin, “but your team is dead, girl.”

“I can take you down with me,” she growls, digging the barrel deeper into the hollow of his jaw. “That’s all that matters.”

“Then  _ do it _ .”

* * *

Revenant comes back to life with a championship and Bloodhound at his side. He groans as his system startles back into working order, shifting uncomfortably, before he turns his head and sees Bloodhound in a chair across the room, seemingly asleep.

“Bloth,” he calls out, vocal processor glitching for a moment. Bloodhound jerks awake, however, looking around before their hidden gaze finds Revenant.

“Ah,” they clear their throat, seemingly embarrassed. “How do you feel?”

The simulacrum grunts, “About as well as someone getting shot in the head feels. That’s  _ twice  _ now, by her.”

“Mm. Her desire for vengeance is strong,  _ elskan _ ,” is all they offer as they sit on the bed, taking his hand in theirs gently.

“You’re still here, though,” he points out as he sits up.

“Hm?”

“I’m not stupid, Bloth. You’re acquainted with every Legend in some way. Between me and her-” He trails off, unsure of how to continue. He’s gotten too soft, maybe he deserves to be stuck in this imitation of a skinsuit.

“I admire her prowess,” they admit after a moment of silence. “In battle, we are the same - she is a formidable fighter and a clever individual, I am always honored to fight with her.”

They stare at their hands, intertwined, before splaying them so that they can press their palms together.

“You and I,” they continue, choosing their words carefully, “are connected through suffering at the hands of the same people, no matter how far apart it may have been. With you, I see the Hunt, but I also crave peace.” They tilt their head uncertainly, as though they aren’t articulating their words as well as they like. “I cherish you, Revenant, in a way that I could not hold the others dearly, in a way I cannot perfectly describe.”

“I understand,” Revenant murmurs, the harsh feeling in his chest melting away, leaving his shoulders to sag as though he’d been held up by puppet strings the whole time. “I don’t know if either of us could be peaceful.”

Bloodhound lets out a short laugh, “No, perhaps not the peace that others are born to, but perhaps a peace that will keep us away from prying eyes and sharp daggers.”

Revenant allows himself to let out a small sound akin to a laugh as well, “Close enough, I suppose.”

A knock at the door of the private room interrupts them, and has the pair pulling away from each other. Revenant doesn’t even try to hide his scowl when he sees it’s the PR representative.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” is all she says, gaze flat. “You’re late. It’s ten past the time you two were supposed to start the post-match interview. I guess it’s a good thing Mirage is your third.”

Reluctantly, the pair get up, following the PR rep out of the medical wing of the Apex Tower. By now, Revenant is used to the fearful gazes and whispers that follow him when he walks in populated areas, but some of the looks he gets has him double checking himself, and he sighs in irritation, “This damn thing still hasn’t turned off.”

“It will be a while,” Bloodhound points out. “Mirage is with us, and I have not seen Wattson since the match has ended.”

“Fantastic.”

“Maybe your merchandise demands will go up for once,” the PR rep says as she stands outside the door to the busy conference hall. Revenant doesn’t hesitate to point his blade underneath her chin - she wouldn’t be the first PR rep he’s disposed of.

“Shut. Up.”

Before he can add her to his body count, Bloodhound places a hand on his arm, murmuring, “Not now.”

The simulacrum growls, hand returning to his side, and the PR rep hesitantly reaches out to open the door and let them in.

Almost immediately, the cameras turn away from where Mirage is posing on the small stage up front, and Revenant can’t help but flinch at the sudden flashes that blind him momentarily. He quietly considers throwing a silencer in the crowd, but knows that the technology would destroy it all and cause an unnecessary uproar. Instead, he scowls at everyone as he and Bloodhound take their seats with Mirage.

Immediately, there’s an incomprehensible wave of questions as the reporters surge forward - however, the amplified voice of another PR representative drowns them out and forces them into silence as it bellows for order.

“Revenant,” How surprising. “What made you get a body?”

“I didn’t  _ get  _ a body,” he snarls, shoulders hunching in his defensive posture once more. “I made the mistake of agreeing to an experiment that Mirage and Wattson wanted to do.” He stares pointedly at Mirage who seems to be contemplating disappearing via decoy.

“Sorry,” the trickster mumbles. “I-it’s, um, holoform tech… and, yeah, it’s still in its expart- expern- testing stages so…”

“How has your relationship with your fellow Legends changed?” Another question comes from somewhere in the back.

“Did you, or did you  _ not _ , watch the last fight?” is all Revenant offers darkly, though that doesn’t seem to faze the reporter as they ask next,

“How has it affected your relationship with  _ Bloodhound _ , though?”

“W-What?” The question catches him off guard, the confusion evident which causes a wave of murmurs to sweep through the room. Bloodhound doesn’t have any outward reaction, as still as ever with their arms crossed, and Mirage straightens, pointedly looking away as his face reddens in secondhand embarrassment.

“They braided your hair so it wouldn’t get in the way of future fights, didn’t they? Couldn’t your holoform… change so that you have shorter hair?”

Revenant feels his jaw clench, hands curling into fists in his lap, and he barely manages to grit out, “What does it matter to  _ you _ ? I’ve half a mind to-”

He’s halfway out of his seat with his arm formed back into its blade, ready to climb over the table, but a hand stops him from leaping over the security and into the panicked crowd. He looks down to see Bloodhound’s hand on his still-human arm, and they explain as calmly as can be, “I had done it as a gesture of trust. It was clear that Revenant had been discomfited by the sudden change.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the room as the reporters take the answer as an excuse to write and avoid looking at the clearly pissed off simulacrum.

The rest of the panel continues without another question directed at Revenant, most of the conversation being directed at Mirage and Bloodhound, asking about their thoughts on the season so far and their stat changes as some of the longer lasting Legends around. At some point, Bloodhound grabs Revenant’s hand underneath the table, squeezing it encouragingly and Revenant allows himself a small smile that goes unnoticed.

Once the hall clears out ten minutes after the panel ends and Mirage excuses himself with the broken trinket in hand, Revenant plants his face firmly on the table with a groan, “I hate the public.”

“Hm. Indeed,” Bloodhound agrees plainly, giving the simulacrum a sympathetic pat on the back. “We have the week to ourselves, however. What would you like to do first,  _ elskan _ ?”

“Hold you,” Revenant mumbles as he pulls himself up just to wrap his arms around Bloodhound. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that imaginary peace you see with me.”

Bloodhound chuckles, resting their head on Revenant’s shoulder. “Are you saying we should run away?”

“Maybe. Would you?”

“With you? Anywhere, my dear.”

Revenant smiles, still a strange feeling, but one he has missed dearly, and would always do for Bloodhound.

_ Everything _ , he thinks, giving in to the soft desire prodding at his mechanical heart,  _ I will do for Bloodhound. _

**Author's Note:**

> takes canon human revenant and puts him on a shelf  
> anyways..
> 
> my version of human revenant is inspired by oscar isaac, got the perfect salt-and-pepper goin on and hes very handsome and also i cant see revenant being a twenty-something twink for 300+ years im sorry


End file.
